Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (8 page)

His mother hadn’t had many jewels, but he chose one of her rings, a beautiful silver ring with a large emerald surrounded by diamonds, to present to Aislin when he proposed.

Two weeks later, he’d ridden into the village on the road that came by the orchards. Aislin was walking there, her arm linked with another man. Jariath recognized him as Prince Heath of Thorndon.

Aislin had seen him approaching on his horse, and she’d pulled the prince by the arm, turning him quickly in the opposite direction. Blind jealous rage had consumed him when he saw them together.

He quickly spurred the huge snorting stallion around, using it to block them from escaping him. Furious, he insulted and berated her, but she told him in a firm voice they had no agreement between them, and she didn’t belong to him or anyone else.

He hadn’t thought of physical violence up to that point, but when he called her a whore and Prince Heath came to her defense, he dismounted quickly off the horse and beat him until he was unconscious.

Aislin had tried very hard to keep him from hurting Heath, but he’d flung her to the ground like a rag doll. He remembered the blood thundering in his ears as his fists flailed, and then he vaguely heard Aislin screaming something about starting a war if Prince Heath died by his hand. That was the only thing that had stopped him.

He felt sick with humiliation when he thought of how he’d stepped over the unconscious prince, presented her with the ring, and asked Aislin to be his wife anyway. He could still see the appalled look she gave him as she glanced from the beautiful ring in the box and back into his eyes.

He’d shown Aislin a side of him that he didn’t even know existed. She had backed away from him with a horrified look on her face. He could tell she was going to say no to his proposal even before she said it.

An intense ache had filled him at that moment, and he briefly considered just kidnapping her back to Morrigan. But he still hoped to win her over, wanted her to love him, wanted to be like his older brother Riordan and win the girl
and
the kingdom. Unfortunately, her brother, King Fionn, had heard the commotion out in the orchard and had sent some of his men out to see if there was a problem.

Knowing they wouldn’t understand, he threw himself back up onto his horse. “
I won’t give up. You
will
be my wife, Aislin
.” And with that, he’d turned and fled back to Morrigan.

It took him some time to get over her rejection, and many of the young women of Morrigan paid dearly for her decision to refuse him. He wasn’t the least bit disturbed to discover that hurting them always made him feel a little better. He was working up the nerve to pay her another visit, when the sickness hit Arianrhod.

He’d heard that Aislin was now regent for her young nephew after the death of her brother. He didn’t yet have the bravado to face her, so he sent many couriers with messages offering marriage. As she inevitably refused, his messages became more and more bullying, threatening, and insulting, though he knew those tactics wouldn’t win her heart. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from baiting her.

The last message he’d sent calling her an ugly old crone who was past her prime for childbearing came back with
Piss Off
scribbled across it in bold script. He’d broken the arm and jaw of a young scullery maid after that refusal.

He’d understood that she would be furious about the message he sent with Brock offering to take the kingdom from her nephew by force. It would mean another refusal from her, but nothing else had worked. He couldn’t break through to her no matter what he did.

Jariath growled and curled his hands into fists.

He would ask no more. He was no longer a foolish boy who fancied himself in love. Aislin would soon learn that her place was on her knees and at his feet.

Chapter Nine

A
ISLIN AND RODERIC HAD ONLY walked a short distance into Blackthorne Forest when they found a perfect, sheltered spot to camp for the night. They changed into dry clothes, and Aislin set about gathering firewood. Roderic went off with the bow and brought back a small wild boar for supper.

As the pig roasted over the fire, Aislin sat hugging her knees to her chest and staring into the dancing flames. Now that the immediate danger was over, she realized they didn’t have much of a plan. She didn’t even really know where they were.

Looking over at Roderic, she asked, “Do we know where we’re going?”

“I know we have to go east for awhile. When we get up tomorrow morning, we have to head in the direction that the sun is rising.”

“That’s it? That’s the plan? Just get up in the morning and head toward the sun?” she snapped, as she handed him another piece of firewood.

Roderic laid the wood on the fire and sighed. “Well, we didn’t have much time to think about a plan today. I guess we can talk about it as we’re traveling.”

She glared at him for a minute. Then she looked away and put her chin back down on her knees. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I wonder what my life would be like right now if Fionn hadn’t died?”

“You shouldn’t...”

“No, I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but think about it sometimes. If it weren’t for a strange twist of fate, I’d probably be someone’s wife right now.”

Roderic sat down next to her and turned the roasting pig over onto the other side. “I may anger you when I say this, but I can’t picture you as someone’s wife.”

“And what do you mean by
that
?”

“What I mean is... little girls are raised to look forward to the day when they are married. The next big step for them after that is motherhood. That’s supposed to be what they aspire to. But you....” He smiled and tapped a finger on the side of his head. “...have too much going on up here to ever be truly content with that kind of life.”

Aislin continued to glare at him, though she felt a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

“I can’t see you being content to sit about in finery and spend your days sewing, and tending to children and your husband’s needs. You love to plant things, be involved, get your hands dirty. I’ve seen you take the wildest horse and tame it in no time.” Roderic chuckled. “It would take a pretty secure prince to understand the likes of you.”

“I’ve never understood why a princess couldn’t be married
and
do all of those things. The women in the village do it. They don’t have a choice.” Aislin turned away and grew thoughtful again. “I just think about Bryce returning to Arianrhod in less than two years, and taking the throne. I’ve put my whole life on hold to preserve things for him. I don’t know how to do anything else, Rod.” She sighed. “I sure didn’t see
this
coming. Bryce may not have a throne to sit on by the time Jariath is done.”

“I don’t think Jariath has the army he needs to hold Arianrhod indefinitely.”

“He has all the army he needs to destroy the place. And what will become of me if Bryce
does
return? I’ll be the unmarried aunt who is in the way at the manor house. Jariath is right—no one will want me now that I’m older. Men want young wives and children, not old women with brains. I’ll have no purpose, and I’ll be alone.”

“Someone like you will never be alone. And you’re just as beautiful as you always were. You might be surprised at who comes calling.”

“No one will come. Jariath has seen to that.”

“What makes you so sure?”

She heaved a sigh and threw a stone into the fire. “Do you remember when Jariath beat Prince Heath within an inch of his life?”

“I do.”

“I went to see Heath in Thorndon several weeks after he went back, to see if he was healing from his injuries. He refused to see me.”

“Why?”

“I was told Jariath had sent word to every eligible prince in the land that the same fate, and worse, would befall them if he got wind of anyone trying to court me. By that time, he had everyone scared to death of him, and I just wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. No one came after that.”

“I’m sorry....”

Her eyes bright with unshed tears, she said, “I really liked Heath.”

“Jariath sounds like a bastard.”

“You have no idea.”

“What exactly
does
he want?”

“I wish I knew. I think he has himself talked into being in love with me. I truthfully think he just wants to get out of that marshland, and he views me as a way to do it. He was a perfect gentleman when we first met, but he got ugly and violent when I wouldn’t commit to him. He’s clearly insane. I just didn’t think it would make him dangerous.”

They sat in silence for awhile, Roderic poking the fire and Aislin sniffling.

Quietly, Roderic said, “We may not always like the path our lives take. It is up to us to find a way to go forward, even when we may not want to do that.” He looked down at the ground. “If I had a choice, I’d be living down in the village with my wonderful Brianna. I’m sure we would have many children by now. My oldest son would be about 21 years of age if he had lived.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up...” she said.

“I don’t mind. I honor them by thinking of them every day. I enjoy talking about them. They are as beautiful in my memories as the day I laid them in the ground.”

Roderic Warren had been a trainer in the horse stables, working as an apprentice under Dom. As a boy, Aislin’s brother Fionn loved training horses, and he and Roderic had become the best of friends while working together in the stables.

Roderic, at 30, had been a lifelong bachelor, but that all changed when he met Dom’s daughter, Brianna. She came to the stables one day, bringing lunch for her father, and swept him right off of his feet. She’d been 16 years of age, and she was the sweetest girl Aislin had ever met.

When Brianna became pregnant with their first child, everyone was quite amused to see the way Roderic fussed over her. He rushed home every day from the stables to rub her feet. If there was a particular food she was craving, he went looking for it and didn’t come home until he’d found it.

It all went horribly wrong on July 10, 1671. Brianna had gone into labor and the baby was breach. The boy was born dead after many long hours of labor. Brianna died not long after her infant son.

The deaths of his wife and son nearly destroyed Roderic. After he’d seen to their burial, he went back to the home they’d shared, got into bed, and willed himself to die.

Taking several of his best men with him, Fionn had forcibly removed Roderic from his home and taken him to the manor house. Though it seemed cruel at the time, it saved his life. Fionn patiently stayed with him, talking to him, feeding him, holding him as he grieved for the future that was now lost.

As time passed, Roderic began to take an interest in life again. Fionn made him his personal assistant and kept him busy so he wouldn’t have time to think. Eventually, Roderic recovered a sense of purpose. He was invaluable to Fionn when he was crowned King.

And then Fionn died from the sickness. They’d all held their breath as they watched Roderic slide right back into that dark place. He made it very clear he couldn’t stay in Arianrhod after that, and when someone was needed to take Prince Bryce to Wyndham and stay with him until he was 18, he’d volunteered to do it. They all agreed it was for the best. He’d not been back in Arianrhod until the day he delivered the painting to Gwen.

Roderic pulled the pig out of the fire. Aislin couldn’t help but think how ironic it was that he was the one on this journey with her after all of these years. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Roderic,” she said, looking up at him with the utmost sincerity.

“I just wish it was under different circumstances.” Roderic stooped in front of her and handed her a wooden skewer full of pork. “Now if you’re hungry, supper is served.”

Chapter Ten

A
ISLIN STARED INTO THE DARKNESS, listening to Roderic’s soft rhythmic breathing beside her. She’d slept fitfully when she first lay down under the stars. The gray mists of slumber held a threat that was trying to form itself into something more solid, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to face it.

The night sky was beautiful and clear, the stars as bright as she’d ever seen them. An owl hooted softly somewhere off in the forest. A quivering sigh escaped her. Though she tried to fight them, hot tears ran down the side of her face and fell onto the backpack under her head.

She had been so careful, so meticulous, in her care of Arianrhod. Nearly eleven years of sweat and toil, frustration, laughter, and healthy doses of pain thrown in for good measure. She’d been 24 years of age when she took over, and she’d made plenty of mistakes at first. So many wonderful people stood with her, helping her, giving advice. If nothing else, a shoulder to cry on.

It had been that easy—
that damned easy
— to sweep it right out from under her and send her fleeing. Jariath knew they had no real army. He simply wanted to prove a point to her. He would have been quite pleased to know that she felt the sting of his point so acutely.

She searched her memories, trying to determine the moment that he turned from persistent suitor to obsessive aggressor. Jariath had always pursued her with a single-minded intensity that seemed a little strange over the years. The more she told him no, the harder he worked to win her. What had pushed him over the edge into violence?